


Fantasy

by honeyMellon



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-28 09:35:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyMellon/pseuds/honeyMellon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deep down inside, in the heart of every human being, lives a dark, dirty secret. Fantasies that they dare to indulge only in the privacy of their minds. Yes, everyone, even Kurosaki Ichigo: staight-A senior, star athlete of Karakura University, future doctor, also known as Most Eligible Bachelor in his year. Except, his fantasy came true. Warning: Non-con.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**This was inspired by something a close friend of mine told me. He recently went to a BDSM community meet-up for the first time, and heard a lot of things that shocked him. One of these things, was something called "arranged rape", where people can, well, play out their rape fantasies. Before the meet-up, the individual would write what his or her limits are so that the other party knows when to stop. Then they would arrange a place to meet and wear something that would identify them, and you can imagine the rest.**

**Please note that I did NO research about this (I tried searching online but couldn't find anything), so if you do know this lifestyle/activity, please understand that everything in this piece of fiction is simply a product of my rampant imagination and is not a representation of what it may be like in real life.**

**If you don't feel confortable with non-consensual sex, now is a good time to hit that Back button. Otherwise, please advance with caution.**

* * *

Ichigo's body shuddered one last time before he sank back into his pillow; eyes clenched shut, one hand clutching his iPad, the other holding a wad of tissue paper over his spent cock.

The video on the device was still running. In it, a young man was on his elbows and knees, naked and blind-folded, on a filthy looking mattress. His face was scrunched up, jaw clenched in a painful grimace, tears streaming down his reddened cheeks. Bite marks, some oozing blood, littered his neck and shoulders. His hands were clutching the bed sheets, his fists wound so tightly around the fabric that his knuckles were white.

Behind him, knelt a giant of a man. The angular, handsome face led down to a thickly corded neck and wide, muscular shoulders. The man was dressed in typical office attire, except the fly of his black slacks was open, allowing him to piston in and out of the younger man's battered body. The pace was cruel and merciless, the boy's pleas blatantly ignored.

Ichigo closed his eyes and pictured himself as the young man, being brutally ravaged by a stranger and completely helpless to do anything to stop it. He felt his flesh harden, the image vivid enough to reawaken his freshly sated libido.

He knew this wasn't healthy, to fantasize about being taken against his will, but he couldn't help it. He felt disgusted by himself, yet, whenever he needed release, his mind would go back to this: his one secret desire. It was a vicious cycle, one that he could not escape.

By the time the victim in the video was shoved aside, used and unconscious, Ichigo was panting and feeling light-headed from his second orgasm. Wincing and suddenly feeling guilty, he turned off his iPad and hastily got rid of the evidence of his dirty secret.

* * *

"Are you serious?" Ichigo felt his heart rate quicken. He schooled his features into a look of utter horror, but inside, his gut twisted with excitement.

His best friend, Renji, nodded, russet eyes wide with a mixture of bewilderment and mild disgust. And curiosity, Ichigo noted. Who wouldn't be? It wasn't something you hear every day.

"So they wear something like a label so that the other guy would know when to stop, you see," Renji continued in a hushed voice. "Like, if you identify your limit as oral sex, the 'rapist' won't go all the way."

"What if the guy loses control? What if he gets into it and just says 'fuck rules'?" Ichigo wondered out loud.

Renji shrugged and made a face. "I don't know, man. It's not like I'm interested, so I didn't really pay attention to all the details."

Ichigo gulped and hoped that Renji wouldn't notice the blush that was creeping onto his face. It sounded perfect. It was exactly what he needed. A real, yet safe, outlet. Relatively safe, anyway. He needed to find out more about this.

Two weeks later, Ichigo had his answer. He had scoured the internet and found a local community that hosted something like this. Ichigo was shocked to find that he was not the only one with such fantasies. He couldn't decide if he should be horrified or relieved.

At the moment, though, he was nervous. Very, very nervous. He fiddled with the necklace he was wearing, rubbing his thumb over the baby blue colored pendant that hung in front of his shirt. This flimsy piece of metal was both his downfall and his protection tonight.

His heart was going wild in his chest. He wasn't sure what to expect. The facilitator had given him a short overview and gone over the rules, but Ichigo had been so tightly-strung that he'd already forgotten pretty much everything. He had no idea who the other person was going to be.

Seconds continued to tick by, then minutes. Every time the door of the cafe swung open, Ichigo would look up expectantly, but so far none of the faces he saw could be... _him_. There was a portly old man, a motherly looking woman with a teenager in tow, a bunch of high school kids. Nobody that looked even remotely dangerous.

As minutes became an hour, Ichigo began to feel foolish. This was beginning to seem like a stupid idea and a complete failure. But still he waited, unwilling to move while he still had the courage to stay. He knew that the second he walked out of this cafe, he would never dare to do this again. Hs fantasy would remain as such...a fantasy. Forever. He wasn't sure he was ready to give up yet.

But when his watch showed that he'd been waiting for two hours, he sighed. To think he'd been so nervous about this the whole day; in the end, it was all for nothing. He had got to be the most pathetic guy in the history of mankind. It was one thing to be stood up by a date. This was just...a whole other level of sad. Now, all he wanted to do was to crawl into his own bed and try to forget what an idiot he'd been.

After paying his bill for two cups of coffee and a slice of pie, Ichigo left. The last of the day's sun rays was quickly disappearing, so he shoved his hands deep inside his pockets and sped up. This neighborhood wasn't exactly the safest in town; the sooner he could get out of there and back to his apartment, the better.

He was about four blocks away from his place when the hair at the back of his neck prickled. He froze mid-stride, his stomach suddenly flip flopping as he recognized the signs. His heart began to beat faster, his senses spiking from adrenaline. He was being watched. Followed.  _Stalked_.

"Who's there?" he demanded, feeling proud when his voice came out strong and steady.

The silence that followed was so thick with tension that it was suffocating. Ichigo steeled himself and shifted into a defensive stance, his years of karate training kicking in automatically. He scanned his surroundings with sharp, keen eyes but found nothing.

The attack caught him by surprise. He saw a burst of blue and white, and then everything went dark.

* * *

Ichigo came to with a sudden jolt, his eyes flying open as though he just woke up from a nightmare. For a while he was disoriented, not knowing why he was staring up into an unfamiliar ceiling, then it all rushed back. The sickening smell of chemical, the fear...his heart lurched into his throat. His head hurt as though someone was having a heavy metal concert in his skull, and his mouth was so dry that it was painful just to swallow. Breathing heavily, he sat up and looked around. He was in a darkened room, the mattress he was on felt lumpy and smelled strongly of cigarette smoke. His eyes took a while to fully adjust, but when they did, he saw that the lone window in the room was boarded over, allowing only a sliver of light to filter through the opening. A light bulb dangled from the ceiling, barely providing enough light for him to see beyond his ten toes.

At least he wasn't being restrained, and he was relatively unharmed. So far. Ichigo wasn't sure he would remain that way. In his shock and panic, all he could think of was that he had been kidnapped. His dad was a doctor; not exactly rich since he operated his own private clinic, but he was well-known. Ichigo wouldn't be surprised if people got the wrong impression.

Time crept by slowly, and Ichigo stewed in his fear and uncertainty and became increasingly frustrated. As much as he was dreading to face his captor, he needed to know that there was  _someone_  he could be mad at. He couldn't handle being here alone any longer, not knowing what's going on out there and how much time has passed since he was taken. Would anyone even  _know_  that he was gone? He had told his housemate - Renji - that he was staying over at a friend's to study, because he wasn't sure how long his... _date_ was going to last.

Ichigo couldn't help but chuckle bitterly at the irony. He'd  _knowingly_  set out to be hurt, only to be left hanging on that front; yet now, when all he wanted was to go home, he was stuck here worrying for his own safety. At least for that one, he knew what would end up happening. This here, he didn't even know if he'd still be  _alive_  in the next twenty four hours. And there was nothing he could do about it. His headache was getting worse, and he was still groggy from whatever his kidnapper had used to knock him out.

Just as his eyes was drooping close, the door creaked open. The metal hinges squealed so loudly that Ichigo broke out in goosebumps all over and had to clasp his hands over his ears to block it out. He squeezed his eyes shut, feature scrunched up into a grimace until it registered in his mind that the door had just  _opened_. His heart missed a beat at the realization and his stomach lurched. Finally, he was going to see the bastard who put him in this hell hole.

It was so dark that, for a moment, it was nearly impossible to make out the figure that stood at the gaping door. It was a man, that much was clear, from his stature - broad around the shoulders and very tall, likely towering at over six feet. Then the man took a step closer and the light bulb finally illuminated his face.

Ichigo's eyes widened. Of all things, he wasn't expecting to see someone so shockingly attractive. This man looked like he had just stepped out from the People magazine, or Men's Health. Everything about him screamed perfection - from the fashionable bed head to the toned pectorals clearly visible under a thin t-shirt, to the corded forearms and the alluring V-shape of the ideal male body - the man was downright glamorous.

And those eyes: framed by long eyelashes and slanted just enough to look exotic, and such a stark, vivid shade of blue. Even in the dimness of the room, Ichigo could see the color clearly.

It was probably stupid of him to think it, but how could anyone so beautiful, so  _breathtaking_ , be a criminal?

"Who are you?" Ichigo rasped, wincing at the soreness in his throat.

The man gave no indication that he'd heard, and only studied Ichigo in silence. Ichigo felt his face heat up under that piercing gaze. There was something in there - something predatory and  _wrong_  - that made his skin crawl. All of a sudden he didn't care if this man was good looking or not. His instincts were screaming for him to flee, that this man was dangerous. But where could he go? The man was directly between him and his only route of escape.

Ichigo's mind was still churning for ways to run when his captor closed the short distance between them. With the graceful agility that reminded Ichigo of a feline, the man pounced. Ichigo was on his back before he could even blink, and the man hovered over him, large, calloused hands pinning Ichigo's wrists to the mattress. It took Ichigo a few seconds to recover, and when he did, he drew his knees up and kicked, aiming for the man's gut but missing entirely when his captor dodged aside. The blue eyes darkened, turning from something beautiful to something  _deadly_ , and Ichigo paid dearly for his attempt.

One of the hands that had been restraining Ichigo's arms wrapped around his throat and squeezed. Hard. Ichigo's eyes widened in shock, then he began to claw at the hand, trying desperately to lift the weight off of his wind pipe so that he could breathe. But his captor was unforgiving. The grip only tightened, until all Ichigo could see was white and black dots, and then just as his eyes were about to roll back into his head, the pressure lifted. Ichigo sucked in a deep breath like there was no tomorrow - and there probably wasn't - and started coughing. His throat burned like he had just swallowed fire, and his chest and stomach spasmed as his body struggled to recover.

But before he could even breathe properly again, cruel fingers grabbed his hair and  _yanked_. Ichigo let out a shout before biting his lower lip to silence himself. He wouldn't give this man the pleasure of hearing him in pain. His cough turned into gagging sounds as he was crushed face-down onto the mattress. He panicked when his air flow was restricted again, but this time, he was distracted by something else.

His pants. The man was ripping his pants off.

As though a magical switch had been flipped, Ichigo's world tilted on its axis. The fear that had seized him suddenly morphed into something much more complicated. He felt himself harden even as the horrible truth sank in. He was going to be taken.

Just the way he had always fantasized about.

He had just enough clarity of mind to wonder if he should laugh or cry. It was happening, the very thing he had set out to experience, was actually happening,  _after_  he'd been stood up by his "date" who was  _supposed_  to be doing this very same thing. Now that he thought about it, he was vaguely aware of the cheap blue pendant scrapping against his chest as he was pushed further into the mattress. Oh god, the irony.

The knee that had been digging into the small of his back lifted as his boxer briefs was removed, and then Ichigo felt fingers in his hair once more. This time, he couldn't hold back his cry of pain when he was yanked to his knees by his hair alone. His eyes watered, his scalp throbbing so hard that he was sure his captor had ripped off a chunk of his hair.

Hot, rough hands found his hips and pulled. Ichigo scrambled to clutch at the sheets as his lower body was lifted off of the mattress. His legs were knocked apart and he felt his captor's body pressing against his bare backside. The bulge was unmistakable. It was harder and larger than anything he had ever felt, and for the first time in the past fifteen minutes, Ichigo was truly afraid.

All the videos in the world and his imagination could not have prepared him for what came next. It didn't even register in his mind until he was shoved face-first into the dirty sheets. Then it hit him, and he screamed.

His world was reduced to pain. Burning, red-hot pain that radiated from inside out. It felt like he was being ripped apart, speared, stabbed, repeatedly and mercilessly. His body jerked each time the man slammed home, reaching deep inside of him, stretching him, filling him in ways he never knew was possible. For the longest moment, all he could do was flail in his captor's bruising grip, his body seemingly too shocked to do anything else. It didn't even occur to him to fight back, it was as though his mind had shut down completely.

Then, the fog lifted, and all of a sudden everything hit him from all directions. The slickness that slid between his thighs, the sting from flesh dragging against flesh, the fingers that were digging into his scalp and holding his head against the dirty mattress, his own gasping breaths, the pitiful noises escaping from him. And that sound: a deep, guttural growl that sounded almost feral. It cut through everything else and shot straight to his cock. Arousal, a sensation that had wilted throughout all the pain and shock, re-awakened in his veins. Before he could stop himself, he let out a low, drawn-out moan.

The man heard, and laughed. "Slut," he grunted, punctuating the word with an especially hard snap of his hips.

Ichigo arched his back and cried out. His body strained under the assault, both physically and now even more so mentally. God, how much deeper could he go, there really was nowhere else for him to -  _a thrust_  - shit, that hurt so good, more -  _another thrust_  - stop, it hurt, stop it... Ichigo's mind was spiraling out of control; part of him instinctively seeking safety, yet a darker part was beginning to rear its head, seizing the sensations and twisting them into what he had always secret craved. The power and fire and violence that's pounding into him was pushing him towards the edge faster than any porn or lover could ever do. This raw, animalistic sex -  _fuck_ , it was everything he wanted and  _better_.

Body shivering with increasing want and  _need_ , Ichigo propped himself up on one elbow and reached down to touch himself. His cheeks colored in shame when his captor laughed again, but he didn't stop. With every stroke, the man laughed harder, but still Ichigo didn't stop. He couldn't even if he wanted to. He was too close. No matter how wrong or disgusting this was -  _he_  was - he couldn't stop the climax that was barreling towards him like a high-speed train.

He nearly choked when it finally crashed over him; there was nothing romantic or anything remotely sweet about this climax, but it was the most intense and the most  _complete_ one he had ever had in his life. His body went rigid, fists clenching, teeth bared almost in a snarl. He didn't even feel his attacker anymore, it was just him in an explosion of senses. Nothing else mattered; just this moment, this mind-numbing high that threatened to rob him of his sanity.

Through it all, his captor didn't stop, even after Ichigo collapsed onto his own fluids. The assault on his aching, trembling body didn't end until the man slid in one last time and came deep inside of him. Ichigo let out a hiss at the painful sting, but other than that he was too exhausted to do anything. So he just laid there and watched as the blue-haired man wipe himself down. That man was truly beautiful, even knowing what he had just done.

Ichigo didn't know when his captor left, because when he opened his eyes again, the sun was already up, and he was alone. The boards over the window had been removed and placed on the floor. Ichigo blinked and rolled over, groaning when pain flared all over his body. But he was alive. He'd been so sure that he wouldn't survive, but he did. It had been real, not one of his fantasies or videos. Shit, it wasn't even the little play-acting that he had signed up for.

Then his fingers brushed against something hard and smooth. Something small. Ichigo sat up, his heart suddenly pounding.

It was the blue pendant that he had worn last night. And next to it, sat a small rectangular card. It was almost like a name card, except it was blank with a blue background; a shade that coincidentally matched the blue pendant.

Ichigo's eyes widened.

Blue.

* * *

**The End. Or not? To read this from Grimmjow's POV, see the next chapter. ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

Orange.

 _Orange_.

What a godawful color for hair. Poor kid must've had a terrible time growing up. Kids were cruel nowadays. Grimmjow would know. He'd gotten into trouble enough times with  _his_ own hair color. But he had grown up alright; it was the kids at the other end of his fists who didn't. But he was digressing. He wasn't here to sympathize with this orange-haired young man. He was here for a much less innocent reason.

From his seat a few tables away, Grimmjow studied his subject.  _Ichigo_. Never a full name, or for some people, just a pseudonym. To reveal any more would make them feel too vulnerable. Too  _exposed_. He understood, though. Who wanted to advertise their private kink to the world and be judged for it?

Take Ichigo here, for example. The kid looked barely legal, fresh faced and practically radiating youthful innocence. Who would've expected someone like him would have a fetish like  _this_?

Grimmjow grinned to himself. Ichigo looked nervous, obviously a first timer. First timers were always the best. Their fear was genuine, so raw that he swore he could climax just by watching them. Sometimes they looked so pitiful that he almost felt guilty, but hey, they were the ones who decided their own limits, not him. He simply played his part in fulfilling  _their_  fantasies.

Taking a sip of coffee, Grimmjow glanced at Ichigo again. The boy had been staring at the entrance for the past hour and a half, and Grimmjow could tell that Ichigo was getting impatient. His frustration showed on his face, the boyish features marred by a dark scowl that could wilt a flower.

Grimmjow had to bite his lip to stop himself from chuckling. The kid won't know what hit him.

By the time Ichigo finished paying for his meal, Grimmjow was already outside, waiting for him. Grimmjow hid his unruly blue hair under a hat and wore a pair of designer sunglasses, so he wasn't surprised when the boy walked right past him without giving him a second look.

He waited until Ichigo was a good distance away, then he followed, never letting the boy out of his sight even as he dodged into the shadows to keep himself hidden. Ichigo was fast on his feet, obviously eager to leave this seedy neighborhood.

After several blocks, Grimmjow saw his opening as they approached an area with a busted street light. He allowed himself to close their distance, and right on cue, the kid stiffened and stopped in his tracks. Which was  _exactly_  what Grimmjow wanted.

He didn't give the boy the chance to even struggle. The chloroform-soaked cloth was potent enough to knock him out almost immediately. Grimmjow grunted as Ichigo slumped bonelessly into his arms, but after some struggle, managed to sling a limp arm over his shoulder and scoop the kid up bridal-style. Keeping to the darker parts of the sidewalk, Grimmjow carried the unconscious young man several more blocks before stopping in front of an old apartment building. This was one of the many places the club kept for this kind of meet-ups; a set of sorts, if you will. It was his favorite simply because it was the crappiest, most creepy place they had available.

The receptionist didn't even look up when Grimmjow walked past. There were some things you don't stick your nose into in these parts of town, and this one was one of those things. Grimmjow climbed the stairs easily and made it to the second-floor unit within minutes. Keeping Ichigo sandwiched between the wall and his body, he unlocked the door and eased it open slowly - that damn thing was noisy as fuck - before picking the kid up again.

The lone light bulb dangling from the ceiling was barely bright enough to reach the four corners of the tiny room, but Grimmjow knew the place like the back of his own hand by now. He laid Ichigo down on the mattress, careful not the jolt the kid too much, then he left. He wanted the boy to stew in fear when he came around. It wouldn't be fun otherwise.

* * *

Standing on the outside of the flimsy wooden door, Grimmjow could hear soft rustling noises. Barely audible, but he had enough experience to know what that meant.

_Ichigo was awake._

Grimmjow closed his eyes and blew out a long breath. Just that thought alone was enough to send tendrils of warmth spreading all over his body. It was time for action.

This time, he yanked the door open roughly, knowing that the rusty hinges would make a racket and add to the fear that was no doubt already brewing in the boy's mind. And Grimmjow absolutely  _loved_  to make a dramatic entrance. Sure enough, Ichigo jumped and clamped his hands over his ears and grimaced like a man in pain. But that look was quickly replaced by one of utter shock as Grimmjow took one step closer.

The kid's face turned white, then bright red. Grimmjow resisted the urge to grin. He tended to have that kind of effect on people, especially in this kind of situation. He knew he looked good in his tight shirt and low riding jeans - his favorite ensemble when he wanted to show off his assets and make an impression. He waited quietly and took the time to admire the body that was soon to be within his grasp. Ichigo wasn't too bad himself; he was slim but lean, and if you pay attention you could see the subtle outlines of well toned abs under his t-shirt. His hair looked like an exploded bird nest - if bird nests came in orange, that is - and his soft brown eyes were wide as he demanded to know who Grimmjow was.

Grimmjow was impressed. Not many people had the guts to be so feisty after waking up alone in an unfamiliar place. In fact, this kid was the first one who wasn't cowering in the furthest corner of the room when he walked in. Grimmjow's pulse instantly kicked up a notch and his mouth watered. Fear was good, but defiance  _and_  fear was even better.

Not giving the boy the chance to recover from his shock, Grimmjow lunged. The boy's breath left his lungs with an audible whoosh, and Grimmjow immediately went for the wrists. Pinning the slender limbs against the mattress, he hovered over the younger man like a predator would a prey. Ichigo's eyes widened, and then the kid did the unthinkable. Grimmjow was barely able to avoid the knees that were aimed right for his gut. His eyes immediately narrowed.

 _Nobody_  messed with Grimmjow. Not unless they enjoyed pain.

Growling low in his throat, Grimmjow let go of Ichigo's wrists and grabbed the boy's neck. The kid struggled immediately, face reddening and eyes bulging as Grimmjow squeezed harder. Blunt nails scraped frantically against his hand, but he was unrelenting, not until Ichigo's movements began to slow down. Grimmjow lifted his hand then, not wanting the boy to faint on him again. Ichigo rolled onto his side and started coughing and wheezing like he wanted to throw up, his body convulsing as he sucked in much-needed air.

Anger slightly appeased, Grimmjow gave the kid a few minutes to recover, using the time to remove his own jeans. His eyes raked over the lithe body lying in front of him, just _begging_  to be taken. Suddenly feeling impatient, he reached for the boy's hair to pull him up. Ichigo yelped in pain before going eerily silent. This time, Grimmjow allowed himself to grin. Good, the fire was still there. He was going to enjoy breaking this one.

Ignoring Ichigo's ragged coughs, Grimmjow pressed the boy's head into the mattress and planted a knee on the boy's back, pinning him in place. Ichigo thrashed beneath him but was helpless to stop him. Grimmjow reached down and, with a swift flick and pull, started sliding the kid's jeans over his hips. He snickered under his breath when the boy went still.

This was  _the_  moment - the moment his subjects realized what was going to happen. Some of the smarter ones would connect the dots and realize by now that Grimmjow was their arranged partner, but others - like Ichigo here - were often clueless until the very end. Grimmjow preferred this kind; it was more satisfying, the experience much more _complete_.

With a final yank, Grimmjow had the kid's naked bottom in full view; then with another cruel tug, he pulled Ichigo onto his knees by a fistful of hair. Adrenaline pumped in Grimmjow's blood when the boy cried out in pain, and he nearly laughed out loud when Ichigo started clawing at the sheets as he lifted the boy's hips. It was useless to struggle against him, not when one was as turned on by this as Ichigo was. Despite his protests, the boy was hard as a rock.

Grimmjow's eyes slid closed as he pressed himself against Ichigo's backside, the smooth, flushed skin cold against his throbbing arousal. Then, with one long, brutal stroke, he breached the boy's body, surging past the resisting muscles and pushing himself as far as he could go. Face crushed against the mattress, Ichigo screamed, his shocked body taking a few seconds to register the invasion. Grimmjow let out a groan, relishing the way the tight passage trembled around him, the heat and friction sending a crushing wave of pleasure through his body.

With each snap of his hips, Grimmjow buried himself deeper, until he was finally sheathed to the hilt. Then he picked up the pace, slamming into the helpless body over and over again until the boy's cries became hoarse. Every time the abused walls clenched around him, Grimmjow growled, his head slowly tilting back as he felt his release approaching.

And then he heard it - the low, drawn out moan that escaped from his victim's mouth.

This was it: the breaking point. The part where they became torn between fighting it and  _loving_  it.

"Slut," Grimmjow sneered. He punished the younger man with an especially hard thrust and laughed when Ichigo arched his back and cried out.

"More..." the boy slurred drunkenly, his upper body sprawled out on the the mattress while his hips remained high in the air.

Grimmjow cackled, knowing that the kid was incoherent at this point and probably wouldn't even remember it the next day. But wouldn't it priceless, if he did? If he knew that he had begged for more while he was being ravaged by a stranger?

As the moans grew increasingly louder, the boy raised himself up with an elbow. Grimmjow threw his head back and laughed as he watched the kid stroke himself frantically. Pitiful mewls left the boy as he inched closer to an explosive climax, and Grimmjow thrust faster, his arousal spiked by the sight and sounds of his victim pleasuring himself.

Grimmjow almost came when the boy peaked with a choked cry, tear-streaked face pressed into the mattress as his muscles convulsed around Grimmjow's cock. The boy collapsed onto the bed after that, but Grimmjow kept going, pistoning in and out of the now-pliant body almost violently. Then, with one final thrust, he pressed in as deep as he could and let pleasure crest over him.

Afterwards, the boy simply laid there, completely spent and nearly unconscious. By the time Grimmjow was fully dressed again, Ichigo was out cold. Smirking and feeling proud of himself, Grimmjow unclasped the necklace that was around the boy's neck and dropped it next to his hand, along with a matching card beside it.

Then he left, leaving the boy to discover the truth on his own.

* * *

**The End.**


End file.
